


Considered

by Layni1771



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, I'm Sorry, Non-Linear Narrative, Self-Harm, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, this is a whole mess, this isn't a little fic please don't read it like one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 18:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15418545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Layni1771/pseuds/Layni1771
Summary: Minho bites things.





	Considered

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old oneshot that I accidentally skipped in uploading, oops. I'm lowkey just waiting for my 0th fanclub stuff to get here and was scrolling through my documents that hold my fics when I realized that this never went up so here it is! It's a mess and as always, not proofread. I hope you enjoy anyway!

_age 16_

The wind was fiercely cold as Minho made his way down the empty path, pulling his black jacket even tighter around him. His hands shook as his vision blurred with tears brought on by the stinging, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth. It had to be near four p.m. already and he pushed himself to move faster in the freezing weather, a yawn pulling at the back of his throat. He was on his way to meet with his project partner, a pretty girl by the name of Min Hyunmi who was on the track team. They got along fairly well and he wasn't _not_ looking forward to their meetup, which was a considerable improvement as compared to other days. He stretched out his freezing fingers and tried to look through his cloudy eyes to find the sign of the book cafe they had chosen to meet up and work in.

There was something scratching at the back of his mind, a gnawing, but he ignored it.

Finally, Minho was able to see the rose-colored sign through the reflexive tears and he sighed in relief, pushing his way in. The door slammed shut a little too loudly behind him and he winced, bowing his head in apology as he made his way to Hyunmi who waved him over. Her hair was shorter than he remembered, and he realized that she must had gotten it cut. She smiled at him as he came, and he was struck by the unique beauty of her sharp teeth and half-dimple.

"Minho, you made it," Hyunmi's voice was soft but it carried well as he sat across from her, "I was going to call and see if you wanted to maybe pick a different day, since it's so cold and snowy out earlier."

"Of course I made it," He laughed, pulling his notebooks out of his messenger bag, "You cut your hair- It really suits you. I like it."

"Thank you," She murmured as she tucked a stray strand behind her ear and pushed a cup towards him, "I just ordered this so it should be hot. I can go grab myself another one while you set things up?"

True to her nature, Hyunmi did not wait for an answer before she got up and moved to the counter. Minho shook his head with a light huff of amusement and flipped through his science notebook to find the appropriate notes. He ignored the strange marks all over the pages, especially the corners, and set the notebook to the side so he could instead flip through his binder. There were similar marks there but Minho simply allowed his dark eyes to glide over them as if they didn't exist. He wanted the proper worksheets and the instructions for the project, and when he found them an " _aha!_ " slipped from him, though a bit too loudly. He glanced up to see the few other patrons looking at him, and instinctively he brought his hand up to cover his mouth. Minho bit the fleshiest part of his palm, just under his thumb, to keep quiet. It didn't hurt at all, but Hyunmi gave him a strange look when she returned.

"I was too loud," He explained hurriedly, wiping his hand on his pants. She was holding her own coffee and sat down in her seat, leaning forward to take a look at what he had laid out.

"Do you have a pencil?" The athlete asked and Minho nodded, digging around in the front pocket of his bag. He gave her the first one his fingers wrapped around and peered at the sheets that she had pulled closer to her. For a few moments, they both read silently, until Hyunmi spoke up, her pretty eyes narrowed in confusion, "Does this pencil...Have bite marks in it?"

Minho swallowed thickly and resisted the urge to bite his hand again.

_age 7_

Bored as could be, Minho swung his legs on the bench. He had gotten put in time-out during recess again, a common happening. It was unfair in his young mind, because to him he had done nothing wrong. Song Changnam had asked what Minho did when he got angry. Minho showed him, so it just didn't make sense. He only did what Changnam asked him to. _What do you do when you're angry? **I bite.**_ It was what he knew how to do to control his emotions, the only way, and it was so unfair that he was the only one in trouble. It was his classmate that asked. How was Minho supposed to know that it was wrong to bite? Instead of angrily kicking the ground like other kids would, Minho's tiny, white fingertips pressed against the math workbook he was asked to fill out and he brought it up to his mouth, his baby teeth biting the corner of it hard enough to leave marks.

_age 19_

Minho had been training for maybe a few weeks the first time someone caught him biting something. His muscles were tense with anxiety, because not only was he _not good enough_ , but Minho had been trying so damn hard to break the habit since he started training. He knew it wasn't normal to just _bite bite bite_ as much as he did it, so he tried his damned hardest to stop since he was accepted as a trainee. But that day had been his breaking point and kneeled in the corner of the damp, overheated dance practice room and shoved his fist in his mouth. He clenched his jaw hard around the flesh and sure, it _hurt_ his skin and tore at it, but that wasn't what he was looking for. It didn't relieve the pressure in his jaw and it certainly didn't relieve all of the thoughts storming in his mind.

He carefully detached his teeth from his hand, and his eyebrows drew at the sight of blood. Truthfully, Minho did not care about that. He stood, walking over to his practice bag on the other side of the room. The dancer fell to his bruised knees, digging through for anything that wasn't soft. He needed something hard, hard enough to make _it_ lighten. As he searched, his tongue pressed against a blister on the roof of his mouth. The sore popped and he winced, the sour liquid that had stored up inside of the flamed pocket of flesh coating his tongue unpleasantly. Minho felt tears sting his eyes just a bit but finally his hand wrapped around a small pack of index cards he kept to write down notes. It wasn't quite what he wanted, but it would do. Carefully, he maneuvered the thick papers so a corner pressed against the left side of his tongue, the edges of the cards cutting against the side of his mouth.

It helped, so so much, and he fell back, butt hitting the ground as he leaned against one hand. Shuttering breaths were pushed through his nose and around the cards, and Minho was so focused on the feeling of _relief_ that he didn't even hear the practice room door open. He did hear it shut, however, and the dancer looked up in shock at one of the older trainees in JYP. His brain supplied the name Holden Hwang, close to being kicked out for not showing continued improvement. The two stared at each other, Minho's eyes wide and one hand hovering unsurely over the cards while Holden simply raised a brow as he assessed the situation. His gaze lingered on the bloodiness of the younger's knuckles and he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"It's definitely better that you bite the index cards," Holden stepped further into the room, but instead of approaching Minho he aimed his steps towards the mirrors on the opposite wall. As though he was unconcerned, the American began to stretch his neck and shoulders, "But try not to do it too often. The company doesn't like habits like that unless you can make it something...Cute."

Minho still hadn't pulled the cards out of his mouth. He had all but forgotten about them, leaning forward as he listened to the man speak. His aura was so commanding of respect, he couldn't help but give him all of his attention. Besides, biting was just...What he knew.

"Though, I guess biting could work for you," He considered, flashing Minho a grin with bright eyes through his bleached blond hair, "You do you, kid."

_age 3_

He didn't know much about the world but Lee Minho was afraid. His tiny body shivered and spasmed in the corner, covering his ears while his face was shoved in his knees. The little boy wasn't quite sure what was going on but he always hated it when it did. He hated when his parents yelled and screamed and threw things and his daddy hit his momma. Minho didn't understand it at all. All he could comprehend was that it was _bad_ , and it was _bad_ to bring attention to himself when they were like that. The times he had, well, things had not ended well for Minho. His tiny wrists and chubby face ended up bruised for days, and he didn't want to repeat it.

Minho was scared.

He was scared as the plate from the kitchen shattered and he was scared as his momma hit the floor and he was scared as she screamed curses at his daddy that he just knew were bad to say.

_Don't look at me_.

Minho didn't want to be noticed, and so he bunched up his stained dinosaur pajama shirt in his shaking fists and shoved it in his mouth. His pearly baby teeth bit on the fabric hard just so not a sound would slip out.

_age 9_

The house was silent and he knew immediately there was something wrong there. It was the type of silence that crawled up your spine and made you shiver, because it was just so _wrong_. Shadowed eyes considered the entryway of his household and Minho wondered if maybe his parents weren't home. It would explain the deadly quiet, the quiet that he always strived for but always terrified him when he achieved it. His fingers gripped his sleeves for a moment before they came up to his mouth, resting heavy on his tongue as his mix of adult and baby teeth sank into them. It wasn't hard enough to hurt but he sucked up the drool before it could spill, blinking. He wasn't sure if he wanted to move further into the house, but there wasn't much else he could do. Minho's jaw clenched tighter.

Only a few steps into the uncomfortable quiet, Minho heard a loud bang from his parent's bedroom, followed by his mother's moan of pain. _Oh_ , he thought, _There they are._ He heard his father's heavy steps and his right hand gripped onto the strap of his backpack tighter. Nerves bundled in his tummy and his mouth began to water even more. The spit was sour and dripped from his mouth onto the floor, some soaking into his black socks. Minho leaned closer to the sound, eyes closing as he tried to figure out which direction his dad was going.

_Out of the room._

As soon as Minho heard the doorknob to his parent's bedroom begin to turn, he bolted, tearing the fingers from his mouth. His feet carried him quickly to the hall closet, where his trembling, spit-soaked hand scrabbled to open it. His chest heaved as he slipped inside of the dark space, climbing on top of the wicker shoe basket. His knees drew to his chest and he wiped the saliva on his jacket, face twitching as his dad left the room. He could hear his mom shouting at him, and there was another bang that sounded too much like a shoe hitting the wall _again_. It scared him enough to make him jolt, and Minho nearly tipped off the basket.

He could feel the tears building up in his throat, and Minho shoved his left arm to his face as he bit on the sleeves of his clothes. It wasn't enough, and his breathing was loud from his nose. _Bad. Bad bad bad_.

Minho was to be seen, not heard, or it meant bad things.

It meant he'd be covered in bruises like his mom, screamed at like his dad, and tossed around like any and every single thing they owned in the house. Minho could not be heard, that was the rule and he nearly choked on his own sob as he tried to hold it back. _Not enough please be quiet_ , he thought to himself, and Minho opened his jaw further, this time biting his wrist too. It covered the sounds much better as hot tears streaked down flushed cheeks.

His dad kept hitting. His mom kept yelling.

Minho didn't leave the closet until they were both gone when it was eleven and night and they left him home alone again.

_age 13_

Minho stared at the assortment of pens, books, and rubber toys in his bedroom and realized that somewhere along the way, his biting had become a habit, not a way to keep quiet or a way to cope.

The teenager shook his head and breathed a sigh, something heavy in his chest. It pounded at his ribcage, and he coughed uncomfortably. His room was cold, and an unsteady hand came to rub at his throat. Minho stumbled to his bed, falling into the hard, lumpy mattress with a pained groan. It pushed just wrong at his sore shoulders, sending a dull wave of hurt to roll across his exhausted body. The small room felt so claustrophobic and he shuddered, his eyes squeezing closed too hard. Neon squares and splashes of color danced across the backs of his eyelids and his stomach rolled. Minho only had a few moments of not-so-calming peace before a dog started to yip in his neighbor's yard.

He rolled over, burying his face in the stiff, yellowing sheets. They scratched at his face, offering a distraction of sorts from the loud noise outside and his own thoughts. School was stressful, home was stressful, breathing was stressful- Lee Minho wished it all away. Just to give him a few moments of rest from the tiring world he was growing up in, he willed for emptiness to surround him.

Minho ground his teeth into the old sheets and didn't get what he asked for.

_age 19_

"Minho hyung, don't bite those!" Jisung scolded as the dancer almost mindlessly sank his teeth into the cards they were playing with. A smile quirked at Minho's lips at the whine, and he ignored the words entirely.

_age 17_

His lips wrapped around his friend's thumb and teeth bit it playfully. Minho laughed and didn't even notice that it wasn't normal to others.

_age 5_

A child cowered under the force of shouts, pearly baby teeth tearing at the tender flesh of his arm.

_age 20_

Minho liked to bite anything his mouth got near. By that point, it had become a habit, one he could not shake and his bandmates had come to accept it in full as just another one of those quirks that came along with Lee Minho. With his charming grin and 4D personality, it wasn't really the strangest thing he exhibited to them. He could casually bite them and their belongings without even the raise of a brow anymore, it made his chest sort of light. Like he could breathe without worrying. No one asked when it started or why, and that made him feel all the better. No pitying looks, no _Oh Minho_ 's as he tried to reassure them that he was okay. Minho was accepted as who he was, and he valued that feeling more than anything.

So what if he tried to eat the hearts the other members' fingers created, or bit 3RACHA's music theory books?

No one would give him a second glance.


End file.
